


Phosphenes

by tender_sushijima



Series: Boys Be Ambitious [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Doctors, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Dark Character, Dark Comedy, Dark Past, Diary/Journal, Drugs, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Homoromantic, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Drug Use, Post-Break Up, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 09:45:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13633758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tender_sushijima/pseuds/tender_sushijima
Summary: phosphene:/ˈfɒsfiːn/(n.) a sensation of a ring or spot of light produced by pressure on the eyeball or direct stimulation of the visual system other than by light.





	Phosphenes

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually inspired by one of my final essays during high school and it was to write a journal for five days. Like the abstract, no-nonsense writer that I am, I didn't explicitly indicate what kind of journal I was writing neither did I make it obvious about the true intentions of the journal existing till the fifth entry. Which, as you will probably see soon, is a bummer. Or a shocker, depending on how you see it.
> 
> I didn't know where I was heading but one thing I knew for sure was I wanted Doctor Akaashi Keiji to be a thing and here it is. Everything else - the Haikyuu characters I picked and the plot setting and thickening - came into place with him as the centerpiece.
> 
> So enjoy.

**24.09.XX**

I missed the alarm again. Of course, my insomniac tendencies are to be blamed, but it’s also due to my research on Ophelia. Aside from her family status, I’ve found out about her pastimes and what kind of music she prefers. Drawing, braiding her hair into many different knots and sequences, and reading by the window. She listens to music too – a lot of music, a variety and abundance of them. Sleeping At Last, she listens to when she’s feeling good; Tchaikovsky, for when she wants to dance; and PVRIS, if she feels the emotions gurgling in her.

Oh, right. I forgot to mention – Ophelia is an advanced contemporary dancer. She’s lithe and slender, her muscles taut at the right areas and her limbs agile at the right curves. There are callouses on her skin, scars and blue-black blotches from harsh training on plywood floors. I think they’re beautiful, even though the scabs have long been clawed off and left faint white lines, even though the spots are more yellowish-purple than blue-black.

Ophelia danced a full three minute choreograph devised by herself and it was the biggest hit on PQ Dance’s channel. She was portraying an injured white bird, a swan maybe. If I added a pair of white feathered wings onto a shot of her in midair, she would’ve looked like a seraph.

 

**26.09.XX**

I got up several minutes before the alarm went off, awoken by water dripping onto my forehead. It’d rained last night and I’d forgotten to fix the roof. I had to spare a couple of minutes on that, and in half an hour tops, I was out for a jog.

Yachi-san was out with her two fluffy Pomeranians, lovely and pudgy as usual. She gave me a jar of freshly baked cookies and told me not to push myself too hard. I smiled and told her the same, but we both know that it’s meaningless gesture – I’m the one whom the gesture applies to.

Two meals consisting of cup noodles several days short from their expiry dates, and I returned to researching about Ophelia. Today, I learned that she has a boyfriend from high school.

His name is Terushima Yuuji.

 

**27.09.XX**

It’s been so long since I was jolted awake by nightmares.

I sat upright from the shock of being lost in a maze. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one lost in it, because as I maneuvered the crooked winding of the cracked concrete walls, Terushima walked past me in haste.

I felt a surge of temporary anger but I was truthfully more fearful than that, and as the maze grew higher and smaller in width, I was only fixated on getting out. Out, out, out, out outoutoutout. In the end, I was compressed completely, much to the delight of my claustrophobia, and shot up on bed with the back of my shirt soaked. I could hear the pitter patter on the window pane and knew I couldn’t go back to sleep, not with a sweat-stained shirt and a befuddled mind.

I knew what to do next, naturally.

The whole day it rained, and the whole day I stayed in. Lucky it’s a weekend or else I would’ve been forced to call in sick when I’m anything but.

Warmed in the confines of my blanket, I went through Ophelia’s blog. Lace theme, soft pastel hues, gentle music playing. She hasn’t updated since two weeks ago, which I’d known for a while, but it’s failed to keep me out after my many visits. In fact, it only pulled me deeper. To call her intriguing is an understatement – she’s more than just something I gawk at for her magnificence.

Her last post was dated 11.09.XX, where she wrote a quick announcement about her biggest performance yet. _I’m so excited and nervous I’m jittering double the speed,_ she said around the end, smiley face.

Well, Ophelia, I’m so melancholic and ironized I’m empty on the inside.

 

**30.09.XX**

Sugawara came over today. He told me that I should visit him and Senor Nekomata once in a while. I told him to mind his own business and not put his nose where it doesn’t belong. He still had that pitying look on his face, frowning and crestfallen, and I still had that gnawing desire to grab him by the hair and smear his face on the floor. I turned away in solution.

After he’d left, I tossed out whatever he’d bought and put in my apartment. How dare he show up unbidden and act like he cares. Littering all over my furniture uncalled-for items. I don’t know what he’s trying to get out of doing this, but sure enough, I wasn’t going to give in. It’s hard enough wringing free off their reaches; I’m not going back.

I’m trying not to end this off on a too gloomy note, but the cherry on top of today was finding out that Ophelia was adopted. She wasn’t the blood child of Ayame and Bucky, not born interracial despite looking like one. She wasn’t the proud elder sister of Runa with the choppy bangs, though her being proud remains. Ophelia’s name was Kuribayashi Hino, real name unknown.

Twenty, second year at Cloyfield Academy, performing arts major and ace of the stage. Recently dubbed as “Fallen Grace” due to the popularity she’d garnered from the video, and I couldn’t agree even more.

Ophelia was adopted – so what? It won’t change anything. She’s already stood out like a yellow poppy in a field of red ones.

 

**01.10.XX**

I had a meeting with a director of some recycling company, earning myself another sponsor. Good. All the more incentive to work on Ophelia and her problem.

Sugawara left three missed calls and Senor Nekomata a voicemail, which I listened to. I only heard as far as _we could go back to before_ when I turned it off. Pretentious. It grated at my ears until I found peace through earl grey tea, the sachet kind that comes in thirty per box. The almighty bitter tang bit at the base of my throat and I was finally able to return to what matters: Ophelia.

I went to check on her again. Not her blog, but _her_. Ah, perhaps I’d also forgotten to clarify that as well; she’s currently in comatose from a car accident two weeks ago. Lucky for her, she’d survived the impact when the rest of her family didn’t, but unluckily for her, she’d survived the impact only to black out right after. There’s been no improvement since and I can’t stop worrying my lips every time I pass by her enclosed ward.

At seven in the evening, I was immediately summoned there by a nurse who’s making her rounds. Apparently, not only has Ophelia lost her memories. She’s also lost her ability to move.

 

* * *

 

**October 2 nd, 20XX | Friday**

 

“Hey, you there.”

Akaashi turned and immediately squinted. He’s got a lot on his mind and hands that the last thing he wants to deal with is another patient visitor and the last person he wants to meet is Hino’s temperamental boyfriend. It’s five in the morning; he hasn’t gotten his morning dose of tea to slap him awake.

“You’re the head doctor for Hino-chan, right? Akaashi Keiji?” Terushima spoke his name aloud like it’s a taste he’s trying to get rid of from his tongue, which made Akaashi squint harder.

Akaashi played it off as overtime exhaustion aftereffects and massaged his temple. “Yes, that’s who I am,” he answered breathlessly. “What may I help you with?”

“Good to know. I was informed by the glasses nurse that something’s worsened in Hino-chan. Could you tell me precisely what that might be?”

Akaashi exhaled noisily through his nostrils. He’d seen this coming – Terushima coming for him and demanding answers – because if not for Hino’s entire family lost to the accident, he’d have prepared a better way of answering the question. And he’d have done so because he wouldn’t have been so actively invested in unearthing his critically injured patient, thus cutting down his time in focusing so much on learning about her to focus more on healing her. He’d seen the alternative to that, so conclusively, he has no proper answer to give Terushima. At least not one on par with what he would’ve given Hino’s family. (Besides, Akaashi’s decided that he doesn’t like Terushima at all. He seems a little too on the wild side for someone like Hino to be into. Then again, Akaashi might just be biased and wants to believe that he himself the typical example of his sex.)

“I don’t know how else to break it to you, but there’s a possibility that her spinal cord was affected, leaving her paralyzed on the bed.”

“So, what? There’s a possibility she’s handicapped now?”

Akaashi wasn’t expecting for Terushima to actually catch onto his jargon and enunciating speed, but he doesn’t show the surprise. He nodded.

Terushima went quiet, and Akaashi felt like he has to comfort the poor guy. Wild as he may seem, Terushima is still human – he’s got feelings, most of which are for Hino, who’s currently everywhere and nowhere for him, who’s lost her family in the blink of an eye, whose chances of surviving is less than five out of ten. Terushima, as out of place as he may be standing in the clean white walls of the hospital with his bleached hair and excessive facial piercings, is the closest person to Hino at the moment, and even he’s having issues of his own. He’s only twenty, and his girlfriend of four years could die at any given time from now, as he’s speaking to Akaashi. Terushima is dying as much as Hino is.

“It’s unconfirmed as of the moment whether or not she’s really going to be handicapped,” Akaashi started softly, not just for Terushima but also for himself. He’s worried that if Terushima breaks down, he might just follow suit. “If her spinal cord is the reason why, then that’s the reality. But if it’s not her spinal cord, then she has a better chance of overcoming her paralysis. I just need to know where that source of paralysis is coming from before I can tell you of the odds.”

Terushima opened his mouth to say something but his mouth hung ajar, as if he’d been frozen in time and could only tremble. “Thank you,” he said, defeated, eyes downcast. “Can I… see her now?”

Akaashi nodded. “Of course.”

While he has his doubts about Terushima, he has to believe that Hino hadn’t blindly chosen her boyfriend. Terushima hadn’t blindly taken on a girlfriend as busy as Hino either, because normally, he would be avoiding her as much as he could when she lost everything to the accident. Akaashi isn’t a scandalmonger but hospital walls have proven to be so thin and human words have proven to be so superficial during his stay.

Akaashi insists Terushima get a longer visiting time when he gets to the director’s office. Semi looked up from his files and raised a brow at his request. “Did you make friends with him?” he asked.

“No, but I doubt anyone could deal with that on such short notice, all alone as well.”

Semi started to nod. “Fair point. But I can’t favor you all the time, Keiji. They’ll start pointing fingers during the meeting and I can’t have that.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now sit and tell me your report.”

Akaashi, truthfully speaking, only learned about Hino because of a little note inked onto her skin, right where her ulnar artery is, blue and smudged. Caked with dirt and blood and glass shrapnel, it doesn’t require scientific knowledge to decipher the cryptic message hidden in the note.

_When my man-made wings fail me, I will be free._

Hino had specifically danced as an injured swan because she was injured herself. Very injured. Her last leap of faith would happen on the very ground of fame built from the blood and sweat and tears of other injured swans. She’ll carry that on her shoulders and take them to the skies atop her little body, trusting her broken wings that could send her plummeting down at terminal velocity from an altitude over a hundred. Hino was ready to take the risk. She was ready for everything to go wrong, but she wasn’t ready for everything to be anything, and anything could happen before everything does.

Hino must’ve lost track somewhere and wandered off path, the sidewalk’s sights a better view for her rather than the one she’s headed towards. Like her namesake, Ophelia had gone mad and gotten lost in life; perhaps Hino was the same.

Which is why Akaashi’s been going back and forth. While it’s true that Hino has an extremely slim chance of surviving, she’s still a life worth saving. Akaashi’s a doctor; his policy and direction in life makes all lives and beings a priority regardless of circumstances. Hino may curse and hate him for saving her from the arms of death, but he would never consider the ethical choices he’s made for her.

All lives deserve to begin again.

 

* * *

 

**03.10.XX**

Terushima came again today. He looked fairly healthier, though the pallid shade that his skin was in hadn’t improved the slightest bit. He went straight to the information counter just as I was reaching there, and greeted me when our eyes met. His smile was reserved and his eyes lifeless. Empty and bottomless, like he’d been tied onto an anchor yet remained unmoving despite his lungs choking on water.

It took a lot for me to not stare at him. Terushima looked so sick that I had thought of giving him a treatment right there and then. His cheeks were caved in, the sockets of his eyes sunken and his lips chapped and cracked as he licked them. He hadn’t worn his usual combination of clothes either, replacing them with the more comfortable loose white shirt, gray cardigan and baggy faded jeans. He’d worn a medical mask over his nose and mouth, pulled them away when we sat at the side for a small talk.

I wasn’t expecting anything comprehensible from him and neither was I initiating any conversation beyond the topic of Hino’s predicament, but Terushima figured he had to lay out all of Hino on her trusted head doctor.

They met during orientation day, when all the first years were ushered into the main hall and congratulated for their entry. They met cordially when they were paired up for an art assignment, influencing their interests to overlap and merge into abstract. They came to mutual feelings two weeks after knowing each other and officially loved together a month after. They went through their lowest thrice in the past four years but have never been stronger than ever. It was destined, fated, meant to be. Terushima would never give her up for anything but her life.

The entire time, he didn’t mention anything with regards to Hino’s suicidal thoughts, not a clue or hint. It seemed to me that he was unaware, and although I knew he can’t take any more weight, I told him about the note Hino had written on her arm.

To my surprise, he wasn’t shocked. He merely nodded with a frail smile and admitted that he could tell of her unhealthy thoughts.

“But you didn’t do anything about it?” I’d asked.

He shook his head, and I was appalled by his indifference. Perhaps that was why he kept coming back and demanding if she’ll recover, because he needed to amend what he’s done and not do what he’d done a second time.

“I regret not reaching out to her,” he told me, hanging his head and tugging at his fingers, biting his lips till they’re bloody. “I should’ve helped before something went wrong, and now something’s gone wrong. I… won’t be able to forgive myself if she ends up dying on me.”

I nodded to respond, but in my head I was weighing the consequences. Does his weight of ignorance equal her weight of self-deprecation? Will he tip off the scale with an additional weight of solace put in? Who will measure that?

Terushima was reduced to sniffling and hiccups by the time I realized that I was the one who’ll be measuring the weights.

 

**04.10.XX**

~~Ophelia~~ Hino was an all-star achiever. She scored straight-A’s, participated in numerous events and activities, possessed over at least fifty or so medals and trophies, and was under the illusion that she’s worth nothing.

Terushima offered to bring me to their studio apartment just a ten minutes’ walk from the hospital. Sunday usually means a day in for me, but Terushima, once again, coincidentally met me as I was purchasing… a pack of cigarettes.

I could tell that he was thinking, _what’s a health specialist doing with a method of murder?_ But he dismissed it with a smile and greeted me like we were friends. Which I suppose we are, but that’s not the problem.

Terushima was the one to confess to her. Naturally, that’s how most things kickstart, but their relationship wasn’t entirely natural on foundation. While they loved and endured, Terushima gave his all and Hino gave just half. He explained that he understood she has her dance to love as much as she loves him, her academics to focus on as much as she focuses on him, her family to look after as much as she looks after him. Hino was spick-and-span with what she does and Terushima respects that, but as he told me over the cup noodle I treated him, he didn’t feel satisfied.

“Always somewhere else,” he said, poking into the noodles while his gaze fixated at the distance. “Always looking somewhere else. Always thinking something else. Never me and only me.”

“And yet you stayed.”

“I didn’t. Not that last time I left her.”

He told me about the changes in Hino’s attitude. How she started staring off in the middle of speaking with someone else. How her words never connect and her interpretations come off inaccurate. How she’s begun to complain about aches and cramps on parts of her body, mainly her temples and calves. Terushima insisted that she must’ve felt the pressure of constantly pushing him aside for her other fields of interest, but I had other ideas. If she hadn’t showed these symptoms prior to the _last time I left her_ , why had she started showing them then? If she was pressured about her half-cooked affections for her alleged two-year-strong boyfriend, why hadn’t she expressed those concerns earlier? If she was even sorry to begin with, why didn’t she say so?

That’s because she’s diagnosed with chronic depression. But from what, I have yet to know. The same goes to Terushima, who’s revoked his offer to bring me to their studio apartment to catch some sleep. I told him to take care, but really, I was saying it to myself too.

I don’t think either of us will get any sleep.

 

**07.10.XX**

There’s improvement.

Hino’s statistics are rising significantly and there’s movement in her. She could move her fingers and her eyes are moving beneath her lids. Her mouth sometimes hangs ajar to suck in cooler air from the ward.

Shimizu joins me on the first checkup, but after that, she’s on her own to make her rounds. Terushima nearly ran her down as he turned the corner, bustling through the corridor in a whirlwind of loose clothes and unstyled hair, coming to a stop before me.

I could see Semi standing outside the door of the ward, quietly watching us with a cup of coffee from the cafeteria below, and I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to walk off. Impulsive as my reflexes can be, Semi would eventually discover that I’ve somehow befriended my patient’s affiliate, so I relented.

Terushima sat for an extra hour on top of his usual one hour visit, courtesy of my request. Semi sighed and said I’ll have to start thinking of places to treat him for dinner. I told him that we’ll be off to James’ at seven.

The look of surprise on Semi’s face somehow burned in the back of my head, leaving a scar for me to pick and prod on till it’s seven.

 

**10.10.XX**

Hino woke up. She’s got her eyes opened and she could utter short sentences. Her pupils aren’t dilated and her vocal chords are working though a little rough from disuse. She could lift her hand slightly off the bed and Terushima grabbed onto it tightly, desperately, joyously.

I patted him on the back. I didn’t know why I did that, and I still don’t.

It’s fine. Hino’s awake and Terushima’s rejoicing. It’s all fine.

 

**12.10.XX**

Hino took me by the wrist and croaked out a question.

“Why did you save me?”

It was almost natural how I replied. _Because all lives are worth saving._ If she could scoff, she would’ve.

She let go of my hand and let me check on her statistics. Stable heartbeats, stable breathing, stable health. The mysterious temporary immobilization her body had underwent was gone and I frowned at the screen like it was the culprit.

“One life isn’t worth saving at the expense of three others.”

I shifted my frown to her. Told her that she was too unfortunate to be stuck in an enduring body that makes it into an undesired ending. She turned away from me. End of discussion.

I didn’t try to coax her into speaking. She still has the oxygen mask on and her body, although having valiantly fought through hell, was weakened. She’d have stiff joints and a slower metabolism after she has permission to leave bed. I wouldn’t want to engage her in too many activities after she’d just regained consciousness.

I left the room. Semi was right outside the door, I realized as I was sliding it to a close, and he said he wanted to talk to me. Privately in his office, after eight.

I didn’t even have the power in me to express my guilt outwardly. I knew I’d been favoring Terushima and Hino more than the other patients I’m assigned to, but it made sense to.

 

* * *

 

**October 13 th, 20XX | Tuesday**

 

“Did you talk to Yuuji?”

Akaashi doesn’t turn when he said, “Yuuji?”

“Terushima Yuuji. Blond with multiple piercings. A typical hobo.”

“Oh. Yes, I did.” A beat. “That’s not a very great description of your boyfriend.”

What surprised Akaashi wasn’t the exhale; it was the roll of her eyes and the loathsome tone as she uttered, “No boyfriend of mine leaves me like that.”

Akaashi looked up briefly from his clipboard, genuinely curious. “Is it? From my observations, he seems to have developed a deep affection for you.”

“Well, he can get lost. I don’t need him.”

“Anymore?”

Hino directed a glare at his direction. “What do you mean ‘anymore’?”

“You don’t need him _anymore_?”

“I never needed him.”

Akaashi nodded. Terushima’s provided him with sufficient support statements to Hino’s blunt admittance, so it’s futile to squeeze anything out of her. “Okay. But you need me,” he said to her.

Her glare hardened. From the looks of it, she doesn’t like Akaashi, just barely tolerating him for the sake of his treatments. Hino pursed her lips and shrugged with nonchalance. “Cool,” she mumbled curtly, then proceeded to fiddle with the sheets.

Akaashi’s eyes picked up her finger movements from the top of his clipboard and he sighed. Looking around, he hopes a nurse passes by so he could hand the checkup duty to them, even though Semi will probably call him in for another private talk regarding his ditching of duties. Thankfully, Shimizu popped around the corner like the lifesaver that she is and Akaashi ran to his work station after handing his work to her. Semi’s going to give him more than just a private talk – he was right at the end of the corridor when Akaashi got to his station, and he doesn’t look impressed.

Akaashi could care less. He grabbed the rubix cube from the top drawer of his table and ran back to the ward, coming to a sight he never expected to see. Hino braiding Shimizu’s black hair into waves of ebony, fingers dancing deftly among the separated sections of hair. She appeared to have zero concern about the world, as if she hadn’t just miraculously pulled away from death’s embrace, as if she doesn’t have transparent tubes attached onto her and pumping dissolved remedies into her systems. Hino looked at peace.

She finished with Shimizu’s hair and the nurse bowed with a quiet _thank you_ , leaving the ward for Akaashi to handle. Hino’s hands fell to her lap dramatically and her lips jutted. Akaashi walked towards her and dropped the rubix cube on the bed wordlessly. She stared at it suspiciously.

“What’s this?”

“A rubix cube.”

“Yeah, I know. For _what?”_

Akaashi has no answer. He truly doesn’t know why he’d raced off to get it for her. It could be that he didn’t like how Hino was fiddling with the sheets, and it could be that he wants her to occupy her time with something worthwhile instead of succumbing to her cathartic tendencies. From here onward, there will be many days of health tests and runs, anything equally tedious that’ll ensure the security of Hino’s health after she’s allowed to leave the hospital. Akaashi doesn’t even want to begin to think of all the work he’ll soon be drowning in, especially with Hino having survived a fatal accident. The media haven’t caught wind of this but the hospital staff suffices as petty reporters with their questions and rumors.

She’s definitely a fallen grace, a gift specially formulated and sculpted by God himself but carelessly placed that she fell to the dirt that is earth. It made sense as to why Akaashi knew he had to act towards the strong call of nature pulling him, urging him to search for Kuribayashi Hino.

“To keep you entertained,” he said to her, and she snorted.

Hino took the cube in her hands, the colors scattered and noisy in her pale, quasi-translucent hands. “Did you jumble them up or do you not know how to solve it?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly?”

Akaashi picked up the abandoned clipboard on the bed and kept his eyes on it. There’s a line of blue pen that went flying to the side of the page after a circle on a multiple choice question. _On a scale of 1 to 10, how healthy does the patient look? 7_

Akaashi glanced at Hino. Seven’s a fair choice, given the fact that she’s sitting upright and sober enough to be snarky with answers, additionally making voiceless interjections. He signed at the bottom of the paper and wrote his name. “I don’t know how to solve it.”

“I thought all doctors are smart.”

“Smart doesn’t equate being able to solve a rubix cube.”

Hino smiled behind the curtain that’s her hair, examining the colors closely. “Then you should get me something you can operate on.”

“Like what?” Akaashi pulled away the survey from the clipboard and slid it into the plastic case attached at the foot of the bed, taking a quick glimpse at her. “You?”

Hino actually laughed at that. “No, something you can own possession of. I’m not a ‘thing’, anyway.”

Akaashi smiled. Snarky and witty. “How’s a laptop sound to you?”

She pretended to consider. “Mm, not innovative,” she shook her head.

“You can listen to music.”

That made her lift her gaze and a brow at him. “What do you recommend, then?”

Akaashi pretended think hard. “Mm, One OK Rock.”

Hino squinted at him. “Is that loud music?” she asked hesitantly.

“There’s a ‘rock’ in it; what do you think?”

“You’re getting up on my level. Stop that,” she snapped mutedly, but she’s smiling.

Akaashi smiled. The Hino he learned from his research was nothing like the Hino that’s sitting on the bed before him now. It’s as distinguishable as an orange carnation from a morning glory. He doesn’t want to think too far yet, doesn’t want to delve too deep. Akaashi’s a doctor and a doctor’s job is to save lives regardless of circumstances; Hino changing personality and characteristics won’t hinder him from carrying out his duty.

To his amusement, he can make comparisons between his biased illusions of pre-accident Hino and post-accident Hino in real time. So he said to her, “I’ll bring you my laptop later and show you how I operate on it.”

“You’ll show me the ‘rock’ too?”

“Yes, I’ll show you the ‘rock’ too.”

Hino nodded. She lifted the rubix cube. “Then I’ll keep this as deposit.”

“Oh, you can keep that for eternity. I don’t really play with it anymore.”

She made a face at his response. A mix of disgust and disbelief. “Wow, busy man of society you must be,” she teased.

“That, I am.”

The smile they exchanged with each other felt like a promise, and Akaashi believed he has acquired an unwritten contract.

∞

“Want one?”

Akaashi stared at the cigarette offered and his eyes trailed up to the arm offering it, up the shoulders and neck, stopping at the face of the director. Semi tilted his head and nodded at the cigarette.

“Thanks.” Akaashi took it and placed it between his lips, reaching to his back pocket for a lighter.

“Patient 1192 is doing well,” Semi handed over his lighter. “Nothing science can explain?”

Akaashi took it and lit his cigarette, blowing a puff of smoke before handing it back to Semi. He doesn’t speak until Semi’s lit his own cigarette and inhaled. “Her name’s Hino. Given name.”

“And her surname?”

Akaashi shook his head as he dragged on the cigarette. The smoke blanketed over his lungs and he felt lighter, like the smoke is helium instead of tobacco. “No clue. She’s adopted into the family.”

Semi breathed out a breathy chuckle. “You’re definitely digging her,” he grinned, glancing at Akaashi.

“She’s almost ten years younger than me.”

“Love is love, Keiji.”

“You’re a fucking pedophile, you know that?”

Semi chuckled again, sucking hard on his cigarette till the ember blazed a fiery orange. “Koushi visited you yet?”

Akaashi groaned in aggravation. The change in subject is too sudden. “He can go fuck himself.”

“So he did visit,” Semi surmised with a hum.

“Why, did he visit you too?”

Semi turned to him, bemused. “I’d be less convinced about you not expecting him to visit me.”

Akaashi clicked his tongue and rested his arms over the railings, cigarette hanging loosely between two fingers. He flicked it gently, unthinking of the motes of ashes floating down the roof and showering over the pedestrians below like toxic snow. He’s reminded of Terushima who saw him purchase cigarettes, then made a mental note to return one back to Semi.

“Keiji, you can’t keep a grudge on them forever,” Semi started. “They’re sorry for what they did. Maybe it’ll take them a long time to repent, but they’re not going to progress if you refuse to acknowledge that they’re trying.”

“Are you going to lecture me too?”

Semi is momentarily speechless but he recovered a second later. Pulling his cigarette away for a flick, he said, “No, I just want to help you get through it. It’s been twenty years, Keiji. _Twenty._ We’re better now compared to our shitty halcyon days.”

“When the government finds out their two top physicians used to be drug addicts, they’d have lost great assets and we’d lose our only identity in society. We’re better off not associating with them anymore.”

“We’d be better off if we settle it now rather than later, before things spiral out of control.”

Akaashi whipped towards Semi, cigarette crumpled in his shaking fist. His voice comes out strangled and forced, trembling harder than the jittering of his nerves. “Nobody said we will be settling _anything_ with _anyone,_ Eita, now or later. No difference will be made. Our past records are marred and so are theirs.”

Semi opened his mouth to retort but he can’t deny that Akaashi served a fair point. The two of them, having been left and lived in the same orphanage, had went through drastic measures to be where they are now. Senor Nekomata was a lovely man who’d looked after all the abandoned kids in the city, who’d personally prepared meals and tucked them into bed, read to them stories and brought them to zoos and parks. He singlehandedly raised them using his own resources, so the summer the eldest of the bunch turned fifteen and the man sixty, it felt like an obligation for all the kids to return his kindness.

“He used us as drug mediums, Eita,” Akaashi pressed, stressing on _drug_ in case the other hasn’t registered it. “An old guy like him running an orphanage and handling eighteen kids on his own reeks of shady stuff. Not to mention that _he_ was on it too.”

 _He_ easily refers to Sugawara Koushi, who, after discovering of Senor Nekomata’s illegal drug trafficking behind-the-scenes of running an orphanage, did nothing to alert the legal authorities of the society. If he’d alerted them – or anyone, really – none of the kids would have had to ingest narcotics while their bodies were developing and most sensitive. The kids would be free from the binding chains of substance abuse and be less likely to end up in uncompromising spots in society, and Senor Nekomata, though a figure of law-defiant entrepreneur, would face lighter execution due to his contributions of taking in orphans and actually giving them proper care. But that didn’t happen. The summer Sugawara turned fifteen and Senor Nekomata sixty, the two of them conspired to gear up a backstreet trade with other backstreet traders and consequently involved the minors in their dirty business.

By now, the cigarette has fully folded in Akaashi’s fist and the cinder pricked his palm, but it’s only miniscule in the degree of pain. Akaashi’s head and chest and legs are uncoordinated; they’re like three different sections connected together by several fiber strands and would inevitably float apart when snipped.

Semi remained silent, running through his head of Akaashi’s stance. “They got shut out of business,” he said once he deduced that Akaashi’s not going to continue. “No one busted them or anything; they just went bankrupt. The police can’t catch them even if they want to, because they were particularly discreet with things.”

“So you’re implying it’s okay to forgive them? Because they’re not caught by the law and are now working towards redemption?”

“Keiji, it’s—”

“After what they _did to us?”_

Semi huffed out exasperatedly. He took a drag and exhaled before saying, firmly, “Why’re you so fixed on not wanting to at least come to a closure with it? It wouldn’t be as burdensome if you accepted and understood that they’d wronged you.”

“I would, but I refuse to.”

Semi couldn’t believe his ears. Akaashi was someone he looked up to for his perseverance and determination in life, but now he’s just plain petulant. “They hadn’t molded us into crazy drug addicts,” he reasoned flatly. “Most of us got through it and we’re living just fine.”

“What about the others that didn’t make it into that _most?_ What are they supposed to do behind those bars, allow the two fuckers to visit them and apologize through a phone and a glass wall?”

“Keiji…”

Akaashi shook his head and raised his arms, signifying his withdrawal from the conversation. He released the crumpled cigarette, dismayed that he’d wasted a good menthol cig, and kicked it to the gutter. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat, he faced the city skyline and closed his eyes. Inhaling the cool air on the twenty-fifth floor, feeling the brush of his hair on the sides of his face and the back of his neck, savoring the gentle kiss of the setting sun.

Semi watched him. Akaashi was someone to look up to, regardless of his impulsive tendencies and hardheaded decisions, but he was also someone whom anyone could easily fall hard for. He shuffled his shoes against the cement floor and slid his cigarette back into his lips, checking his watch. “Guess we’ll cancel our date at James’?” he asked.

“No, it’s a date. Just not at James’ this time.”

“Then where?”

Akaashi opened his eyes slowly to the last of the sun’s rays dipping behind the interstices of skyscrapers. He watched the windows of faraway buildings light up one by one. “Giorno.”

A smile cracked on Semi’s stiffened face, the cigarette bouncing slightly. “Wouldn’t it be _notte_ now?” he said jokingly.

“Shut up.” And before the atmosphere returned to normal between them, Akaashi added, “We’re lucky enough to break out of their chains, luckier to have a stable job and place among the less unfortunates.”

“But you do forgive them, right? Just a little bit?”

Akaashi thought for a while. “I’ll acknowledge their effort in trying to repent, but I can’t forgive them.”

“Not yet.”

“ _Never.”_

“Whatever you say, Keiji. Let’s go now, before everyone starts wondering where the two top physicians went.”

Akaashi ducked away from Semi’s arm but they’re both nudging each other on the way down.

 

* * *

 

**15.10.XX**

I showed Hino the ‘rock’. She likes _Juvenile_ and _The Way Back_ most, and though she denies to admitting that _Notes’n’Words_ is another favorite, I know she’s a subtle romantic.

I also showed her other music; to say a few, Mamamoo, Zara Larsson, Daughter. Alternatively, I too, have a wide variety of preference in music, but it’s really her choice if she wants to widen her preference by pulling in some of mine.

Terushima came at three, holding a large box filled with what I assumed are tangible memories of Hino’s. I left the laptop with her and went out so they could have their privacy, ignoring the voice of guilt in the back of my head blaming me for not confronting Hino about what she meant by _I never needed him._ It’s not within my realm of control, and who am I to have a say in my patient’s life?

That night, Semi came over my house with a small pack, saying he’ll stick around for three days to monitor my questionable lifestyle. I tried to persuade him that I’m fine so he should leave henceforth, but he wouldn’t budge even after I’d attempted to kick him out. During this time of the clock, we’re both stripped out of our positions in the hierarchy of hospital systems, so I had no qualms about my actions, but I couldn’t be bothered. Semi could stay however long he wants and I wouldn’t care.

 

**16.10.XX**

Semi slapped me awake with a pillow. It doesn’t sound out of ordinary since we’ve gone through this cycle continuously during our terrible, horrible orphan days, but Semi slapping me awake with a pillow meant that he’d crossed the distance between the two bedrooms, slipped into my room and picked up a straying pillow on the floor to smother me instead of shaking me to consciousness like a civil adult.

Needless to say, we were almost like a comical married couple working in the same field of expertise. But enough about him. The more I think about it, the more I want to plug my ears and smother myself before Semi has the chance to.

Hino’s fixed one face of the rubix cube. I was genuinely impressed. She merely shrugged and continued spinning the cubes aimlessly.

Then Terushima’s in and he’s got a little life back in him, as seen with his outfit. His hair is better maintained too. I smiled at the effort and left them to their own devices again. Hino kept quiet whilst I spoke to her boyfriend, which I noticed is quite the puzzlement, and I made a mental note to ask her regarding it. Confrontational counseling may not be my field of expertise, but this is my patient – I deserve to know what’s making her feel not right in allusion to her recovery.

Semi and I went to Kane’s this time and I think I’ve fallen in love with their carbonara. Their rainbow pudding was god-tier as well.

“The shit prices are worth it, though,” Semi had told me as we were heading back to mine, and I agreed. Once in a while, splurging to treat oneself is a boost to a mundane life.

 

**18.10.XX**

We painted over a canvas we impulsively purchased because we thought it would be fun to play-pretend as skimpy art majors. At first, it was using brushes and an actual Picasso wooden palette and we had a vision in mind to produce, but over time it watered down to unblended contours and irresponsible smudges and smears and finger painting.

The myriad of spectrum is called _Arc-en-ciel de luxe_ and the canvas rests atop the mantelpiece with the caged-in fireplace. We play-pretended as art critics and mimicked atrocious European accents and were both in tears within seconds.

We stayed in due to the unrelenting downpour and lazed around the couches, Grey’s Anatomy replacing the static of the house as white noise. Semi with his fingers in my hair, me with my head lying on his chest. It hummed like an activated machine against my ear when he whispered, “Remember when we used to sleep like this?”

I said I do. Not remembering this would be a traitorous act on my part, because Semi was what kept me from giving up after every fall and I was what kept him from giving up after every lost hope. We would find solace in each other like this, pressed close to each other inch by inch, close enough to melt into the other and feel them as if they’re our own.

We kissed, that night. It was also an impulsive thing, but it wasn’t as disastrous as the painting scene, though it’s caused a rather disastrous predicament for the both of us.

 

**19.10.XX**

Semi didn’t wake me up with a pillow slap to the face this morning and I’m grateful that he didn’t. I don’t think we could properly meet eyes unless the kiss is properly talked over.

I called texted him about this and he said he’ll meet me at the rooftop.

We talked it over, and decided it was better we finish off what we started.

 

**20.10.XX**

Hino’s less active. She’d rather curl up on bed than talk to me or Terushima and I knew I had to take my actions.

Shimizu told me she’ll be on leave for a week and I was sure I felt my soul leave my body for a good minute. If not for Shimizu, I would’ve long given in to the impending pressure that came with having patients assigned under my wing and keeping track of different records.

Yachi, to my surprise, made an appointment with me for consultation on her asthma. She’s steadily improved her stamina and breathing capacity from those morning walks with her Pomeranians, and I told her she could overcome it if she’d persist a little longer. She smiled and thanked me, then told me to look after myself.

Semi’s stay at mine terminated today and he wasn’t there to self-insert his opinions into my decisions. That night, I smoked two cigarettes out of boredom. The drowsiness kicked in around the second half and I retrieved a bottle of wine to soothe the dryness in my throat. Where the bottle’s rim met my lips, I tasted Semi’s instead and knew I was over my head this time.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> HA betcha didn't think of this ending when you read the first entry. SIKED.


End file.
